


The Body Scientific

by foolish_mortal



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: M/M, secular Humanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 18:50:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolish_mortal/pseuds/foolish_mortal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve doesn't understand religion. An alternate take on the currently unaired episode "The One You Love."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Body Scientific

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lil_1337](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337/gifts).



> For my lovely beta Lil, who suggested that I practice writing a short story to develop a knack for it. Lil, why you so wise.
> 
> I was so excited for the upcoming episode "The One You Love" that I ended up writing a pre-episode fic for it. For those who don't know, this episode has Brother Adrian sending dangerous artefacts to the agents' loved ones, including Claudia's brother Joshua. Meanwhile, Steve and Mrs. Frederic go to the Vatican to uncover more about the Brotherhood.
> 
> This fic is also a bit of a love letter to the time I spent in Italy.

Coming from a background in law enforcement and (briefly) college ROTC, Steve had never understood the kink for a man in uniform, but the tailored navy blue suits on all the guards at St. Peter's Basilica and the Vatican museum were making him reconsider his views on Catholicism. Maybe it was some diabolical test, like stuttering while asking Adriano at the front desk for directions was the secret giveaway of gay.

 It really wasn't fair that every guy that worked at the seat of homosexual repression was smoking hot, and he wondered if that was part of the reason Mrs. Frederic had brought him with her. Mrs. Frederic was the best boss ever, Steve decided as he passed another GQ model posing as a security guard.

"...and the Vatican museum is all that remains of Warehouse 8 and the Holy Roman Empire. Mr. Jinks?"

Steve blinked and raced to keep up with Mrs. Frederic, who was waiting for him with an arched eyebrow. "S-Sorry," he said. "Sorry, yeah. I mean, yes. Ma'am."

It had been bad enough sitting beside her and pretending to be asleep on the entire flight to Italy to avoid awkward conversation. Steve resolved to downgrade himself to coach on their flight back, if not book on a different airline entirely.

 

The Sistine Chapel was a cool well of serenity in the middle of a hot Italian summer. Steve liked it. Something intrinsically Buddhist echoed within the dim ecclesiastical arches and grave religious imagery. He stared up at Michelangelo's pièce de résistance and tried to muster up a sense of wonder, but it was difficult considering the dire purpose of his visit. He had never really understood religion.

His Farnsworth's shrill electric buzz cut through the room like a knife, and two of the guards immediately began to hush him with a loud embarrassing 'shh! shh!' that was completely uncalled for. Steve bunched the corner of his jacket around the Farnsworth to muffle it and beat a hasty retreat. It wasn't like he could put it on silent. He was just glad Mrs. Frederic was currently in the ancient Roman statues collection on the other side of the museum.

He ducked into a dark alcove and opened the shell. "This isn't exactly—"

"Steve." Claudia was crying. "Steve, oh my god."

"Claudia." He was gripping the Farnsworth so hard that his knuckles were white. "Tell me."

She wiped her blotchy face. "Joshua. He got to _Joshua_. Steve, what do I do?"

Steve was already moving. "He's in Geneva, right? I can be there."

Claudia gave him an address, and then Steve had to find Mrs. Frederic and give her a blundering abridged version of why he was ditching her and the mission to go haring across Europe. He could feel his ears burning by the end of it.

She gave him a long measured look. "A plane will be flying out of Fiumicino in half an hour. Make sure you're on it."

He didn't even bother replying, just turned and sprinted out of the nearest exit like all the knights of the Crusade were out for his blood. A beautiful woman wearing a wine-red motorcycle jacket roared to a stop next to him on a Vespa as he was running towards the train station.

"I'm Helena. I work for the regents," she said. She was telling the truth. "Get on."

Steve wondered what an Englishwoman was doing in Italy but obeyed her without questioning the Powers That Be for once. Instead, he concentrated on not falling off as she drove like a maniac through lunch hour traffic. Sometimes, his life felt exactly like an action movie for which he was sorely inadequate. Helena didn't talk to him again until he was clambering off the scooter on shaky legs to run to his terminal.

"Claudia is very dear to us," she told him and gave him a piercing look before flipping down the visor of her helmet and racing away.

Steve suspected he had been threatened and wondered if he should even bother returning to the Warehouse if he failed. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach, and it had nothing to do with taking hairpin turns at 120 mph.

 

Switzerland was efficient and aesthetically pristine, completely different from Italy; even the weather was cool and overcast where Italy had been bright and humid. It was giving Steve cultural whiplash.

He tried to cross the street in the wrong place, and a Swiss police officer told him off so politely that he sounded like he was apologizing for Steve's deviant behaviour, and that made Steve feel even worse than if he had shouted.

 

When Joshua Donovan answered the door to his sensible whitewashed apartment, Steve noticed three things: Joshua was haggard like he hadn't slept in days, he didn't look a day older than his photograph from ten years ago, and he was devastatingly gorgeous.

Steve felt his panic abate to make room for a sharp spike of attraction. He opened his mouth. "Um, good. You're not dead yet."

Steve was a master of seduction.

But Joshua smiled, tired but good-humoured. He was clutching the door jamb like he was about to fall over. "You must be Steve Jinks."

Steve blinked. "Oh, right. Hi. Claudia sent me. I work with her at the Warehouse. I'm a—"

"I know who you are. Claudia talks about you all the time." Joshua opened the door wider. "You'd better come in."

It was dark inside. The window shades had been pulled down and the only light came from a brilliant white electric lantern that was sitting in the middle of the kitchen table.

"Sorry the place is a mess," Joshua said casually. "All the light bulbs burst." Steve's foot crunched on something as he followed Joshua across the living room. "And the television exploded."

"Shit," Steve said. "Do you have gremlins or something?"

Joshua looked thoughtful. "Huh. It would be interesting if that was connected somehow." He reached for a teacup from the drain tray in the sink and a pint of milk that was sitting in a bowl of ice. "Sorry, but there's only cold coffee. I don't want to risk turning on the oven."

"You're weirdly calm about this," Steve said. He sat near the lantern and made a bunny ears shadow puppet hop solemnly across the kitchen.

"I've had my share of artefact witchery," Joshua said. "Do you know the name Wolfgang Pauli?"

The non-sequitur threw Steve for a second. "No. Should I?"

Joshua poured milk over two spoons of instant coffee. "Swiss scientist. He revolutionised quantum mechanics and was notorious for something called the Pauli effect. Kind of like Murphy's law. Things just went haywire around him. Lab equipment broke, train carriages decoupled."

"Electrical equipment malfunctioned," Steve murmured, catching on.

"Right." Joshua offered Steve the teacup and then drank the remaining milk straight from the carton.

Steve realised he was staring at the line of Joshua's bared throat. "You. Um. You have this all figured out."

"It'll be easier to explain if I show you." Joshua pulled on a pair of kitchen mitts and then carefully lifted a stock pot from his freezer to a pile of newspapers at Steve's elbow. He removed the lid, and Steve was hit with the stink of chemicals. The pot was filled with a dark dense gooey liquid, and Joshua reached inside with a pair of tongs to fish out a folded paper.

It was underwhelming to say the least, but the Shakespeare folios had been pieces of paper too.

Joshua held up the artefact for Steve's inspection. "This is a letter from Pauli to Niels Bohr. Someone put it in my briefcase. I just found it this morning. I figured it was the cause of all the weird things that had been going on, so I tried to replicate that stuff you guys use. The neutralizer? It kind of worked."

"Wait, you _made_ purple goo? Out of what?" When Claudia had said her brother was a genius, Steve hadn't realised it was code for benevolent Unabomber. "What do you mean, it kind of worked?"

"It's volatile at room temperature," Joshua said apologetically, and to prove his point, a lazy spark winked out of the depths of the stock pot like a dying star.

"Okay, yeah. We're doing this fast." Steve hastily dug around for a static bag, and Joshua dropped the letter inside with a flash of light. Steve was blinded. The kitchen exhaust fan whirred to life, but then made a horrible grinding sound and stopped. Joshua cursed.

Steve blinked away the spots from his eyes. "There's more, isn't there?"

Joshua opened the static bag again with one of Steve's extra purple gloves and scanned through the letter a few times, his mouth moving wordlessly. He frowned. "My German is rough, but it looked like Pauli was expecting a reply from Bohr."

Steve sagged against the table. "There's another letter. Great. Where do we even start?"

"Actually, I think I might have a lead." Joshua drummed his fingers against the stock pot. "I need a favour from you."

"Any brother of Claudia's is a br—" Steve bit his tongue before he finished that sentence and destroyed any chances of getting a date ever. Joshua didn't seem to notice his slip-up, and Steve was so relieved that he didn't hear what Joshua said next.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said, how good are you at robbing museums?"

"Not bad."

 

It should have been a simple breaking, entering, and neutralizing, but Pauli apparently had a personal vendetta against them, because gunfire crackled down the museum corridor the moment Steve cut through the glass exhibit case and plucked out the Pauli-Bohr correspondence letters. Steve shoved Joshua down behind a trifold digital picture display of famous Swiss scientists. The bullets rattled the wall as they made impact but didn't go through.

Joshua looked up at a flickering image of Einstein sticking out his tongue. It had a bullet embedded in the forehead now. "I guess I'm dying in good company," he joked.

"I am not letting you die," Steve said firmly and pulled out his Tesla. He listened to the gunfire. It sounded like about three or four people who weren't joking around, not with live bullets.

"Who are these people?" Joshua asked.

"Offhand, I'd say the ones hired to plant the papers in your briefcase and kill you." Steve dialled the Tesla up to the highest setting. "Get down and cover your head."

He counted to three and then rolled out from behind the wall to return fire. The Farnsworth got two of the shooters and then made a poof sound like a sigh. And then it went dead.

"No no no." Steve shook it and then tried again. Nothing. The goons must have realised it too, and he dove behind the wall just as they resumed shooting at him. "The papers!" he yelled at Joshua. "Goo the papers!"

The second shower of neutraliser sparks was even stronger than the first and spooked the goons into silence, but it was only a temporary ceasefire, and the Tesla still wasn’t working. It must have shorted out. Steve knocked it against the floor and swore. He couldn't believe he would die here, in a fucking Swiss science museum with a hot guy that had no intention of putting his mouth anywhere near Steve's unless it involved emergency CPR.

The gunfire started again. Steve knew the hitmen would work their way closer and closer as they realised their opponents were unarmed. And then he and Joshua would be shot. It was just as well; getting involved with Joshua probably broke some rule of the bro-code with Claudia, even though he was unfamiliar with the general articles of the bro-code and whether they applied in Claudia's case.

In the back of his mind, Steve registered that he was panicking. He felt a hand on his shoulder and half-turned, hoping at least for a goodbye handshake. Joshua seemed like one of those old-fashioned kind of guys.

Instead, Joshua put his mouth right next to Steve's ear. "Give it to me," he said.

Steve was shocked and a little turned on. "What? Right now?"

Joshua frowned. " _Yes_. Give me the Tesla." He snapped his fingers. "Hurry!"

"Oh."

Steve didn't know he had any strong feelings about electrical engineering or any engineering in general until he watched Joshua—his elegant hands, his keen eye—fix the Tesla in thirty seconds flat with only a bit of copper wiring and the multi-tool he carried around in his pocket. It was the sexiest thing Steve had ever seen.

"I increased the range too," Joshua shouted at him over the bullets and shoved the gun into his hands. "Try firing from here."

Steve accepted the Tesla numbly. His ears were ringing, and his mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, but his hands were absolutely steady. "If this doesn't work, get out of here," he said. "I'll cover you."

"But," Joshua began, and Steve didn't even give him a chance to argue, just turned and shot.

A single perfect arc of electricity rocketed down the entire corridor and hit the two remaining henchmen in mid-stride. They dropped like stones.

"Wow." Steve squinted at the prone bodies and then down to examine the Tesla.

" _Wow_ ," Joshua breathed. He was looking at Steve dumbstruck like he had just found religion and Steve Jinks was its prophet.

They stared at each other.

Steve dropped the Tesla, and Joshua flung aside the static bag, and then Steve's hands were on his face, and Joshua's tongue was in his mouth, and they were making out like savages against the bullet-riddled wreck of Switzerland's dead and famous. Steve decided he liked museums after all.

 

They barely left the scene before the police arrived because Joshua's Audi was dark and small so their elbows kept knocking together, and Joshua couldn't even put the car into drive without one of them leaning over for just one more kiss and then another and then another. Joshua looked like he was about to suggest that they move things to the backseat, but then Steve's stomach decided to growl loudly and ruin his evening.

Joshua laughed against Steve's mouth. "I think we're going about this backwards," he said. "Dinner?"

"You're a scientist and a gentleman," Steve told him.

 

"I've neutralized the artefact, but I'll have to stay in Switzerland to deal with the local authorities and get their permission to transport Pauli's letters out of the country. I guess you'll have to leave Rome without me, Mrs. Frederic." Steve said that last part with very little regret but tried not to let it show on the tiny Farnsworth screen.

Mrs. Frederic pursed her lips like she knew anyway. "Good work, Mr. Jinks," was all she said. "We'll meet in North Dakota and discuss the Vatican details."

"Yes, ma'am. Jinks out." Steve closed the lid and then stole a piece of quiche from Joshua's plate.

"Hey," Joshua said with no real heat.

"This is seriously the best quiche I have ever had," Steve said with his mouth full. "I change my mind: Switzerland is the best."

"Glad to see we've won you over," Joshua said drily. His foot knocked against Steve's ankle underneath the table. "So, I hear you'll be in the city a while longer for business."

"Looks like it," Steve said, playing dumb.

"You're welcome to stay at my place. I have room." The gleam in Joshua's eyes suggested Steve wouldn't be sleeping on the pull-out couch.

Steve gave him a slow smile. "That's awfully hospitable."

 

_Epilogue_

"This is hell," Steve groaned. Joshua's living room looked even worse in the morning, and he had been searching the floor for tiny electronic parts for two hours."Why don't you just get a new television?"

"Because I can fix this one," Joshua said. He was hunched over a mangled heap of parts that he had declared sound, but Steve had major doubts.

Joshua did eventually manage to get the television working, but it only picked up Swiss daytime soaps and looked like it belonged in a Mary Shelley novel if Dr. Frankenstein had been played by C.F. Jenkins. They spent a lot of time on the couch most definitely _not_ watching the tv, which Steve privately thought was a waste after all that time and manpower, but Joshua showed him exactly how much he appreciated his help with a long slow toe-curling apology.

All scientists had their little quirks, Steve thought generously and put a hand down Joshua's trousers. "I'm a big fan of engineering," he told the tendons of Joshua's neck.

Joshua laughed. "What are—mm, yeah— what are you talking about?"

Instead of answering, Steve kneeled between Joshua's legs and took him into his mouth, made him sweat and swear and beg with astonishing eloquence. The ugly second-hand couch was a terrible place for an epiphany, but each kiss was its own benediction, and he realized now of all times why he had never understood religion. The curve of Joshua's spine was just as breathtaking as the solemn little arches in the Apostolic Palace, the play of muscles in his thighs was a marvel of technical complexity, and this was something Steve could believe in. He could believe in people and their works.

Steve raised his eyes to the rise and fall of Joshua's chest and knew why he believed in science and its first blush of discovery, its sweet thankless thrill of the chase, and its consuming passion for the art. It was exactly like being in love. 

**Author's Note:**

> Wolfgang Pauli actually believed the Pauli effect existed. You can read about this effect and more about Pauli at his [wikipedia page. ](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wolfgang_Pauli#Personality_and_reputation)
> 
> This story also references one of Pauli's most famous quotes, 'God does not exist, and Paul Dirac is his prophet.'


End file.
